


Write Again Soon

by SylviaW1991



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, de-aged Wirt, eventual slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3449051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaW1991/pseuds/SylviaW1991
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a cross-country summer trip with his family, twelve-year old Wirt meets twelve-year-old Dipper. His stories about the strange town of Gravity Falls seem too fantastic to be believed, but it's amazing to read them on letters sent to his home when the two become pen pals. They fuel his own poetry. They both realize that there's no one else either boy can talk to so easily about so many things and, though so far apart, they begin to grow closer and closer...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wirt had hated everything about this trip. Until they ended up at a Mystery Shack.

Man, why did Wendy have to get sick? Sighing, head resting in his hand, a twelve year old boy turned the page of a magazine. When the door of his great-uncle’s shop opened, he blew out at breath. More tourists. Odd that he hadn’t heard a bus, though.

“Come on, Wirt. There’s bound to be something strange in here. It’s a Mystery Shack!”

The mystery was why people kept buying Grunkle Stan’s gimmick, but the boy decided that they wanted to pretend to believe in the supernatural. He scoffed to himself, pulling the bill of his hat lower. If they knew the real mysteries Gravity Falls had to offer, his uncle would be out of business.

Then again, Grunkle Stan was the creative sort. And greedy. His lips quirked slightly. Nah, he’d be fine no matter what.

He glanced up again when he heard a toddler, “Wirt!”

The older boy’s nose wrinkled and he was careful to evade the tiny arms reaching for him. “Mooom. Greg’s doing it again!”

“Oh, honey, he’s just excited to be out of the car.”

“I’m not playing with him,” he muttered and jammed his hands into the pockets of khaki shorts. He wandered off from the rest of his family and Dipper rolled his eyes. Some prize that kid was.

He watched him, though, intrigued. He’d seen enough boys come through his age and younger that he knew what to expect. Hands. Everywhere on everything. But this one didn’t reach out and touch. He squinted at everything, studying it, and then rolled his eyes and moved onto the next so-called oddity the Mystery Shack had to offer. Not to mention his sweater. He was used to the absurdity of wearing sweaters in the summer, his sister a sweater queen, but this kid wore a long-sleeved, collared shirt beneath it and kept the collar neatly folded. He was a tie away from being a champion geek.

Okay, the lack of glasses and messy hair also kind of stepped him away from geek territory. But he was definitely a nerd of some sort.

Eventually, he found himself staring directly into his eyes. Dipper pushed the magazine aside, straightening. The boy winced immediately as if caught doing something he shouldn’t, though it was Dipper who’d been staring. “S-sorry. You just- You’re kind of... young to be working?”

“If you go by child labor laws, yeah, but I’m not getting paid so it’s not technically ‘a job,’ so it’s not reinforceable.”

“So’s slavery. That’s also kind of illegal.”

“I know, right? Man!” Dipper slumped back on the stool. “But this is my uncle’s place and the normal cashier’s out sick.” When the other boy nodded, Dipper leaned forward. “How’d you end up in Gravity Falls?”

Wirt sighed, lifting up to his toes so he could prop his elbows on the desk. “Jonathan’s lost, but he won’t admit to it.”

“Jonathan?”

“Greg’s dad. My step-dad, I guess.” He frowned back at the trio, absorbed by the jumbles of junk. None of this stuff was real. Not that he believed in magic and monsters and stuff anyway, but this stuff was beyond the proper comprehension of the word ‘fake.’ And what, he wondered, was reality but a false perception? Leave them to their gimmicks and let the trickster living in their minds toy with-

“That’s gotta be rough.”

“Huh?” Mental tirade cut off, Wirt looked back at the too-young cashier. “What does?”

“Having a step-dad. Is the kid your half-brother?”

“Yeah. He’s Greg. He kind of... drools and gets in the way.” Wirt pushed his hands into his pockets, thin shoulders dropping. Though he didn’t dare say it out loud, he thought of Greg as his replacement. The happy, bubbly baby that everyone cooed at. No one cooed at Wirt. Not that he wanted them to! It was just that they didn’t. “So, um, what- Uh. What’s your name?”

“Dipper Pines, current slave/illegal child laborer and the only employee here right now since everyone else gets to be... anywhere else. I think Grunkle Stan’s watching bad black and white movies that he won’t admit to liking. Mabel - my twin - is upstairs adding to her scrapbook, and... You know, I don’t know where Soos is? He’s my friend, though. He’s cool.”

“And the normal cashier’s sick.”

“Wendy. Yeah.”

“Wirt!” The toddler had managed to wander away from his parents, and curled chubby fingers into the leg of Wirt’s shorts.

“Cut it out, Greg.”

“Wirt!”

“Ugh.” He couldn’t pry his half-brother’s hand away lest he start crying. Dipper cocked his head to the side, studying them. While the three year old was all round and soft, his twelve year old brother was on the tall side, definitely lanky. But the toddler was looking up with nothing less than sheer, absolute adoration. Wirt huffed, pat his head. “Will you go back to mom and your dad now, and leave me alone?”

"No!"

“Please?”

“No!”

“Greg-”

“Wirt!”

“Hang on,” Dipper interjected, squirming off the stool. Having to angle his head, even just barely an inch, to look at Wirt made him frown. Yeah. Definitely on the tall side. “Just wait here,” he instructed.

“But-” Wirt scowled when Dipper ran off, leaving him alone with his pain in the neck half-brother. He tried shaking his pant leg to get rid of him, but Greg thought it was a game and started to giggle.

Until the girl showed up.

She squealed, sweeping the younger boy into her arms and twirling him around. “You’re so cute!”

“Hi!” he greeted and she rubbed her cheek against his. Wirt blinked at her, surprised by the sheer excitement at his biggest threat. And then he was frowning at her sweater. It made him feel quite a bit better for wearing one during the hottest time of the year, but at least his was a sensible pattern. Hers had an elephant stitched onto it.

“This is Mabel,” Dipper explained. “Mabel, this is Greg and Wirt. They’re brothers.”

“Half,” Wirt reminded him. “Half-brothers. It’s completely different.”

Mabel laughed, settling the boy on her hip. When he grasped a fistful of her long hair, she disentangled him with an ease Wirt immediately envied. “No, it’s not. At least your little brother is cuter than mine.”

“We’re twins,” Dipper argued. “We’re the same age. We look the same.”

“Nope.” She smiled widely, all mischief and silly spunk. “I am five minutes older. Five, Dipper.” She held up a hand, waving it. “Five.”

Now feeling far more sympathetic to Wirt’s sibling distaste, he turned to him. “Do you want to sit behind the cashier desk and ignore customers with me?”

“Uh. Well...”

“Wirt!” his brother chirped.

“Yes. Yes, let’s do that.”

And hour later, after Grunkle Stan had finally emerged to find customers not being taken advantage of, the boys were still behind the desk. Though Wirt had quite a bit less to say than the talkative Dipper and only believed half of the wild stories - dinosaurs so couldn’t be encased in sap! - he was still vastly entertained. And he didn’t mind Jonathan getting them lost. He didn’t mind winding up in some tiny town in the middle of Oregon.

And when he left another hour later, his brother was fast asleep thanks to Mabel’s constant attention, and he had an andress in his pocket. He’d never had a pen pal before. It could be fun.

But what did he have to write about? Hm. That was definitely something for him to consider, Wirt decided, and waved when Dipper lifted his cap and waved it wildly in farewell.

Until we meet again, my friend, be it on this plane or elsewhere in the unknown future, we had an afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one! The scene is set! :D Now on to the letters themselves~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wirt does want to write to him. He really does, but what about? What does he have to say?

It took almost a month to write the first letter. There just seemed to be such little to write about in Massachusetts. Their town was a small one, on par with Gravity Falls. The stupid high school football field was in walking distance, but all the schools were.

Still, Wirt was the only one with an address and Dipper had said that he would only be at the Mystery Shack for the summer. So he put pen to paper and stopped procrastinating. He knew how to write a proper letter - seventh grade English had been passed with all As, after all. Hopefully eighth grade English had more reading assignments.

_Dipper,_

_Jonathan got us lost again. Actually, he got us lost a lot. Mom says she won’t ever let him navigate again. They bought a GPS as soon as we made it home._

_I guess since I saw - sort of - where you live, I should tell you about where I live? I don’t think you’ll be really interested. It’s boring here. We don’t have Mystery Shacks here or uncles breaking child labor laws._

He hoped Dipper remembered the joke between them, but couldn’t go back now. He’d picked up the pen for a reason. No erasing! No going back! Feeling a little less bold than he had when he started, he continued.

_Anyway, we’re in Massachusetts. You’ll see the address on the envelope. Our town is SMALL. We can go anywhere by walking except the mall. The mall’s too far away to walk, but that’s not a big deal. It’s awful there. The teenagers hang out there, their surly attitudes broken only by the smattering of laughter. Gained from the taunting of others, no less, their chortles sting like wasps._

_Sorry. I don’t know why I wrote that. The mall does suck though. When I’m a teenager - my birthday’s in August, by the way. When’s yours?_

_When I’m a teenager, I’m never going to the mall._

_What are you going to do (or not do) when you’re a teenager?_

_I’m sorry this letter took so long for me to write. We haven’t been busy, I guess, except Greg had a cold. But I’ve never had a pen pal. People usually use email now. Why don’t you?_

_Um. I think that’s it? I don’t know. I’ll try and write something better next time._

_\- Wirt_

_p.s. Greg keeps calling your sister May-bell. I guess she’d like that._

He almost threw the letter away twice, mortified especially by the bit of poetry he’d included. What if Dipper made fun of it? What if Dipper showed Mabel and they laughed at him? The thought of it, even with the two of them being a continent away, terrified him. So he stuffed the letter in its envelope underneath a pile of clothes and reminded himself to get it back before laundry day.

Except laundry day came when the new family moved in down the street. While Jonathan dragged him and Greg to meet them, mom put a stamp on the addressed envelope and wondered how her smart boy could be so absent-minded. Wirt thought nothing of the lifted red flag on their mailbox when he came home, shaken up and mortified by tripping over his own shoelaces and landing right on his face in front of the new girl.

At least he thought nothing of it until he realized that he heard the washing machine running, and his pile of clothes was gone. “Oh, no,” he moaned, hiding his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these chapters will vary in length big time, depending on what the boys want to talk/write about :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He'd nearly given up on ever seeing a letter. He shouldn't have suggested it. What kind of loser asked to be pen pals with somebody in this day and age? This guy, apparently.

By the time the letter arrived, Dipper had given up hope on receiving one. It was kind of stupid for him to push his address on Wirt rather than asking for the other boy’s in return, but twelve year old boy’s were hard to come by in Gravity Falls - or, rather, nonexistent. And it wasn’t as though he was pinnacle of social butterflies back home. He’d rather dig into a mystery novel or do his homework than run around with the guys.  


Man, he was lame. And he felt every inch of it. He tossed a baseball up, catching it before it could smack him in the face, and threw it again. He was the only Pine twin in the bedroom of the attic, though his sister kept popping in to pester him. Okay, so she was just checking on him. But he wished she wouldn’t. He wanted to wallow in feeling lame for his inability to interact with normal kids his age, and his lameness in feeling lame.

Lame, lame, lame.

Ugh. He really needed to get out of the house. Except, looking out the window, he could only frown. The mail would be there soon, and he was being lame again for not wanting to miss it.

Maybe he hadn’t completely given up hope yet. Groaning, he rolled over and pressed his face against the pillow, leaving it there until he heard his sister’s rapid footsteps. “Dipper! Dipper, Dipper, Dipper!”

He grunted, but rolled over and snatched the envelope from her when she tapped his head with it. “Yes!”

“I want to read it too!”

“Nope.” Dipper herded her out of the room, ignoring her protests, and shut the door on her, locking it for good measure. He knew she’d either find a way to pick the lock or get Grunkle Stan to give her a spare key, but he was a fast reader. He flopped back onto his bed, tearing the envelope open and devouring the letter in the span of five minutes.

Child labor laws made him snort and the rest just left him smiling. It was so short for having taken nearly a month to write, but it didn’t matter because it was there. There and awaiting a response. Oh, right!

Dipper rolled off his bed, darting to his desk and grabbed a pencil and sheet of paper. 

_Hey!_

Lame. Lame way to start. But he’d written in pen, so couldn’t erase.

_It’s okay if your town is boring. Some boring now and again here wouldn’t be unwelcome, you know? Gravity Falls is CRAZY. I usually live in California. The town there’s not small at all, and it’s kind of easy to get lost in the crowds. At least in a small town there’s more opportunity for big splashes. It’s all about leaving your mark, right?_

_So poetry, huh?_

He couldn’t think of anything to add to that, angsted over it for several minutes before just going for it. He didn't need to think to write a letter to someone. It wasn't hard. You just put pen to paper and bam.

_I don’t read much of it, but it’s cool if you do. It’s kind of cool if you write it too. I can’t do that kind of thing. I do read mystery novels and stuff like that. I really like puzzles. I think that’s why I’m so attached to the weird journal I found. Did I tell you about that when you were here? I don’t remember._

_Anyway, my birthday’s in September. So we’re only a month apart._

It really sucked being younger, but as Dipper glanced back at Wirt’s short letter to remember all the questions he needed to answer, he decided he could live with it. He’d lived with being younger than Mabel his whole life. He felt like Wirt wouldn’t gloat nearly as much - at least not to his face - about the minimal age difference.

_I think I’ll go to the mall back home (in California) at least once when I’m a teenager. They hang out there all the time there too, and I’m curious why. It’s another puzzle. I don’t know if there’s anything I’ll try and avoid doing. Probably underaged drinking. I never got the point of that. I’ll stick to Pitt Cola._

_So I’ve never had a pen pal either. It could be cool, or I guess it could just fail? I kind of don’t want it to, though, so write back soon? They don’t have to be full of epic adventures or anything. I don’t mind answering weird questions if you don’t. Stuff like, I don’t know, your favorite color? School subject?_

_I know, I know. It’s summer and thinking of school is taboo, but I kind of like it. I like learning things, even though tests are awful._

_I do use email! Just not here in Gravity Falls. I mean, there is internet access but it’s mostly ethernet cables and half the time they don’t work anyway. There’s more to do outside than inside when you’re in a wooded valley. That’s the main reason why our parents sent us here - they wanted us to do STUFF._

_I was really mad at first, but I’m over it. Things are too cool here and exploring things that people say are just made up is literally the biggest puzzle I’ve ever been given ever. It’s like permanent, really hot Christmas._

_Write again soon. Seriously._

_\- Dipper_

Even his letter was lame, but Dipper only wrinkled his nose and read it over once before stuffing it in an envelope and running down the stairs, calling out for a stamp. A quick interlude with his sister had him reopening the envelope, though, and adding to the letter.

_p.s. Mabel loves it and wants to make sure that Greg’s better. I told her he obviously was since you used past tense, but logic goes over her head sometimes. Whatever._

Dipper’s letter ended up in the mailbox that night, and was in Massachusetts just a few short days later.

**Author's Note:**

> For any questions, comments, concerns - want to shoot me a prompt? I'm game - just hit up my tumblr. syl-writes-things.tumblr.com


End file.
